Author's Note : Thanks to Scarred Sword Heart for the beta!

Disclaimer : I don't own Rurouni Kenshin.

Many faces, One soul Chapter I

Dark grey clouds, outlined by golden and orange dusk lights, drifted lazily across the sky. The shoji was wide open, letting the warm and rich air enter in the quiet room. The faint, yet heavy smell of rain promised a soon downpour.

Gaze lost, Kenshin was kneeling in seiza, quietly sipping a cup of green tea. His slender frame was clad in the dark blue Choshu uniform, and his daisho was neatly lying next to him. He listened intently to Katsura Kogoro setting out the details of his next mission.

"I need my best man on this mission, Himura. We can't afford to lose such promising alliance. Yagami-san promised to join us by the end of the month, and through him, we will be able to buy more western military supplies. We just need to secure his family, currently held hostage"

"I understand that well" Kenshin agreed. "However, I'm not quite sure of the necessity of the deception. I can remain easily in the shadows"

"No, Yagami-san is officially still a shogunate dignitary, so the loyalty of his men will be questionable when his defection will be is found out." Katsura waved his hand, brows furrowed. "We cannot get rid of all doubt, but the odds are far more in our favor if you agree to remain near him until he's safe."

"So I have to infiltrate his guard, unknown by all but him," Kenshin mused, looking expectantly at Katsura.

"Yes, no one must be able to link you and Yagami-san to the Ishin Shishi." Katsura smiled. "Unfortunately, your red hair and your scar are standing out."

Indeed, with his amber eyes, his fiery strands of hair outlining his delicate face, left cheek adorned by the well-known cross-shaped scar; one look in plain day was sufficient to tell who he was.

Kenshin tried to not let show the irritation building in him. All his life – even if rather short – he has been bothered because of his looks: in his childhood because of the unusual color of his hair, and more recently by the infamous scar. He avoided mirrors, or his reflection in calms pools of water. The simple sight of his left cheek was enough to overwhelm him with profound sorrow and self-loathing.

The man he was today has been born on this fateful day, among snow, blood and tears. His hand lightly touched the azure scarf draped over his shoulders, and he buried his nose in it, eyes half-closed. Under the smell of smoke and the coppery one of blood, lingered a faint, very faint scent of white plum. He took a deep breath, allowing it to soothe him.

"What can I do about that?" Kenshin almost glared at his interlocutor.

Light smile still tugging his lips, Katsura filled his cup with a small amount of saké.

"Well, I believe you'll have to conceal your most distinctive features." The older man took a sip, before continuing: "I'm sure you understand that since you've became a… celebrity, an undercover mission will be hardly succeed if you go in with your most distinctive features visible".

"I will not shave my hair off; if that's what you are trying to tell me." Kenshin's glower matched his icy tone.

"Of course not!" Katsura let a heartfelt laugh escape. "Don't worry Kenshin, I don't think it will be necessary. I arranged a meeting for you tomorrow morning with a disguise expert. I'm sure he'll think of something convenient. Until then, the evening and the night are yours."

Knowing that he was dismissed, Kenshin bowed, then gathered his daisho and rose gracefully to his feet in one fluid motion before making his way to the door.

Despite the heavy summer rain, the street was packed by people of Kyoto; late grocery shopping, end of a work day, simple evening walk… life murmured at these instants. Kenshin could lose himself, totally relying on his senses: the sight of a colorful kimono and a pleasant face, the scent of cooked fish, the joyful laughter of a child. Even for a short time, he could pretend that he was part of a simpler existence.

One without pained cries, guilt, grief and crimson blood. So much blood.

Kenshin scowled. It was useless thinking about this.

I'm still Katsura-san's blade, steel has no feeling, no regret. But when it will be over… The young man sighed.

Between the intensifying darkness, the curtain of the downpour and the hat over his head, Kenshin felt protected against prying eyes. Nonetheless, he kept his inner senses tuned for any danger that might arise. The flow of auras was difficult to process in the crowd, but from time to time, a strong warrior ki would stand out. Each time this occurred, Kenshin made a point to avoid the path of these men.

He made his way to the ramen eatery. He was thirsty and hungry, and didn't want to return to headquarters yet. His comrades in arms were too afraid of him; he could not feel at ease in such conditions.

Kenshin swept up the curtains at the entrance and looked around. The room was packed with people, and the air was noisy with shouts for more sake and more food. Removing his hat, the young swordsman wound his way through the tight passage between tables and bodies to find an empty seat. He sat near a corner, most of the patrons behind him, their auras peaceful and harmless. He let his weary body relaxed slightly against the wall. The previous night had been hard, and he had not been able to sleep until then. A young woman took his order, and soon a bowl of beef ramen and a teapot was placed in front of him.

"Thank you" he murmured, but the waitress had already bustled off.

He took a sip of the hot soup, heat trickling down to his stomach. For a moment, he felt contented, but that did not last long when three noisy and slightly drunken men seated themselves at his table. They did not pay attention to him, engrossed as they were in their conversation.

Few moments later, it turned into a heated argument.

"I tell you they will burn Kyoto down with these fires! It's careless, and only poor citizens like us will suffer on the end!" Wild gestures punctuated the speech of the white haired old man.

"You spineless coward, it's feeble people like you that made the gaijin step all over us," came the angered reply of the bearded man.

"It's the blood of Japanese people that flows in torrents over the ground! Nothing good can come of that!"

The noodles in Kenshin's mouth turned to ashes. Suddenly feeling ill, he put down the chopsticks, and put his head between his shaking hands.

He's right, the price is too high, it will never end. It's impossible to build something on blood.

Lost in his dejected thoughts, the Ishin Shishi sensed that something was very off when a complete silence fell over the room. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, his blood ran cold when he spotted the too recognizable cyan and white of the Shinsengumi uniform.

Damn.

Four men, their auras radiating power and confidence, sat down near the exit. After few minutes, conversations scattered across the room resumed quietly. Kenshin assessed the situation. He would have to get out of there quickly, without being noticed. Unfortunately, he would have to walk practically under the nose of his enemies. It didn't matter, provided he could reach the exit quickly enough to run outside. Very few could match his speed in the streets of Kyoto.

"Have you heard of the big fight between the Shinsengumi and the Ishin Shishi last night?" the old man asked his friends in a hushed tone, while Kenshin picked up his hat.

"Yeah, I heard that it was a massacre. Hitokiri Battousai was here, and he killed nearly dozen of those poor guys." Kenshin stilled.

"Tsk, Hitokiri Battousai doesn't exist; it's a tale made up to frighten wimps like your! If he were real, he would never be able to hide himself, with his red hair and scarred face! The Shinsengumi would have spotted him long ago!" countered the white-haired man.

Kenshin winced and fought against the urge to strangle him. His demeanor attracted the notice of the guy seated in front of him whose gaze fell on the dark red locks shielding Kenshin's face, failing to hide his left cheek.

Uh-oh. He stood brusquely, and the man jerked back, eyes widening in terror and mouth hanging open.

"Kami! That's him!" he shouted, pointing in Kenshin's direction.

"Fools!" snarled Kenshin, grasping his katana with his left hand as he turned around.

The commotion has gotten the attention of many patrons, amongst whom were unfortunately the members of Shinsengumi. The surprise on their faces was soon replaced by determination and wariness. They didn't take much time to unsheathe their katana.

"Battousai!"

"You're a threat to the security of Kyoto! Surrender!"

Cries of terror and confusion erupted across the room, and soon Kenshin stood alone, nobody between him and the Shinsengumi.

"Leave, or else… die." His soft tenor was devoid of emotion and matched his cold face. Only the blazing amber eyes showed his banked fury. He didn't have time for such foolishness.

"There is no honor in taking flight; somebody will meet his death tonight!"

In battle mode, Kenshin felt distantly sorry for them and for the landlord, who would have to clean up the mess. He crouched slightly in the formal battoujutsu stance, right foot forward, right hand hovering over the hilt of his sheathed katana, and waited.

It was part of his new code: never attack first. In his eyes, here lingered the difference between the hitokiri, the mindless killer, and the protective role he had assumed since Otsu.

It helped to keep him sane, barely.

He could feel the hesitancy in his enemies' ki. He was rooted, absolutely still, and he could tell that was greatly bothering his opponents. Finally, with a flare in their auras and angry shouts, they decided to charge at him.

Two steps… one step…

With blinding swiftness, his blade whistled through the air as it swung in a deadly arc from the side. It connected with flesh and bones, a cry dissolving in a gurgle. Reaching forward, Kenshin closed the range and stabbed a second enemy with a graceful, yet fatal, leap. Whirling, he went limp and dodged a flashing blade before unsheathing his wakizashi with his left hand, disemboweling one man while beheading the other in a swift motion. Only a few seconds had passed following the first attack.

Shocked silence followed the display of his mastery. Calmly, he flicked the blood off his blades while collecting himself.

I guess Katsura-san is right after all, I'm far too noticeable.

Careful to avoid the bodies sprawled at his feet, he left few silver coins on the nearest table.

"Sorry for the disturbance," he said flatly, before fading out into the night.